


Life of the Party

by Bdoing, mademoisellePlume, Vinnocent



Series: Heroes and Wolves [6]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Bdoing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellePlume/pseuds/mademoisellePlume, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scott and Stiles go to a party hoping to get lucky, Melissa seems to have the same in mind home. But Braeden finds herself being introduced to an all new fearsome enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life of the Party

“What?” Stiles demanded, accompanying his best friend down the sidewalk to their already-in-hearing-range destination.

Scott sighed. “What do you mean ‘What’?” he mumbled.

“I mean ‘what’!” Stiles insisted. “And you know what.”

“Kill me now,” Braeden groaned, leaning back in the beat up black Toyota pickup she’d been using to tail them the entire route. The alphas may supposedly want Scott alive, but she wasn’t going to trust them to stick to their plan. To ensure that the governor’s secret grandson remained safe, she was going to have spend all her free time following this idiot everywhere and listening into his idiotic conversations through the bugs and robots.

“Like what?” asked Scott.

“That look you were giving,” Stiles said.

“I didn’t give a look,” Scott said, sounding exasperated. _You and me both,_ thought Braeden.

“Look, there was a distinct look, Scott,” Stiles insisted.

“What look?” Scott demanded.

“The look that says the last thing you feel like doing right now is going to a party!” Stiles insisted. Braeden scowled at her equipment. If Stiles was sure that was how Scott felt, then why was he dragging him to a party?

“It’s not that,” said Scott. “It just seems a little weird going to a different high school’s party.”

“That’s because it _is_ weird,” Braeden quietly agreed.

“What? Would you--?” Stiles demanded, before interrupting himself with a frustrated squeak that made Braeden smirk. “God, one drink. Alright? You’ll be fine. I went to nursery school with this girl, okay? She promised to introduce us to all of her friends. So, tonight? No Allison. No Lydia. Tonight, we’re moving on.”

On cue, Scott surreptitiously checked his phone, but Braeden knew from her bugs that he’d received no recent word from Allison. “You’re right,” Scott admitted quietly.

“That’s right, I’m right!” Stiles cried victoriously.

“Moving on,” Scott repeated, trying to convince himself.

“Onward! And upward!” Stiles assured him, making exaggerated gestures.

“Let’s do this,” said Scott.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Stiles said, and they high fived.

Braeden rolled her eyes and slumped back in her seat. Worst. Job. Ever. And that included the time that she’d had to listen in on the bugs she’d planted on a senator while he was suffering from food poisoning. She watched through the windows as the boys finally entered the party house. Then, she turned off her equipment and stepped out of the pickup.

\-- --

Cassie awoke to a light but insistent tapping on her bedroom door. She groaned and turned over to face Melissa, who was standing there, silhouetted by the light of the hallway as she leaned against the doorframe. Even hidden by shadow, though, Cassie knew there was a mischievous smile on that face.

“So,” said Melissa. “Guess whose supernatural son is currently at a party that will probably keep him away all night?”

A smile eased its way across Cassie’s face. She raised her hand to make a beckoning gesture. “Alright, but you should know I’m already half-asleep.”

Laughing lightly, Melissa dropped onto the bed next to her and pulled her into her arms. Cassie watched her for a moment before gently taking her head in her hands and pulling her into a long, gentle kiss that caused little contented sighs to rise from Melissa.

Finally pulling away, Cassie smiled and said, “I have _really_ got to get him to stop calling me ‘aunt’.”

\-- --

As Braeden barely dodged being seen by Stiles as he came running up from the basement. Rolling her eyes, Braeden continued on her way, finding Scott a couple yards away in the kitchen, trying to… make friends? If he was hitting on any of these people, it was the softest tap she’d ever seen.

These two were embarrassing.

Braeden leaned back against the wall to watch him without being in his direct line of vision. A moment later, another girl decided to collapse into a chair near her. Braeden definitely didn’t need to be seen stalking Scott, so she grinned broadly at the girl. “Hey, baby,” she said with a little nod. When the girl looked in her direction, she asked, “Wanna see my spaceship?” The girl groaned, got up, and left.

It wasn’t often that Braeden had the chance to flex any seduction skills, but she was aces at sending people packing.

CRASH!

She almost jumped, but the sound had been distant. She glanced around for signs of trouble, but no one else seemed to have noticed.

CRASH! CRASH!

The sounds were definitely coming from the basement. What had Stiles started now? Braeden glanced briefly at Scott, decided he was safe for now, and hurried down into the basement. Wine cellar, actually, which explained the noises of glass shattering. She was halfway down the stairs when the screaming started. She ran in only to find wine bottles flying out of their cradles, and some poor, tiny, pale, blond creature screaming with her arms held over her face, trying to back away from the attacks but only slicing her bare feet on broken glass.

There were a lot of questions, but the answers could wait. Braeden ran with deliberate steps that hit as straight-down and lifted as straight-up as possible, trying to avoid sliding on the growing pool of spilled wine. She grabbed the girl, trying to shelter her as much as possible. “I’m going to help you,” she said, her voice loud but steady, her words sounding like a sergeant’s orders. “I know you’re scared, but I need you to stay as still and calm as possible. Okay?”

The girl nodded emphatically, making small whimpering noises. Her arms were still held over her face. Braeden put an arm around the girl’s waist, then knelt and swept up her legs into a bridal-style carry. “Lean against me,” she ordered. “Try to shelter yourself from the glass as much as possible.” And, crying, the girl obeyed.

Braeden made her way as quickly and carefully as possible back to the stairs. The wine racks were angry now. They shook and rocked at her. Some even toppled in front of her, but she only stepped around them. Whatever was behind this didn’t want them dead yet.

It wasn’t the alphas though. Werewolves couldn’t do this; they had no psychokinetic ability. What would want to attack this girl in her wine cellar?

Just as she reached the stairs, she felt claws dig into her shoulders and rip her backward, off her feet, throwing her back amongst the danger and disaster. She bit back her reactions to a mere hiss and grunt of pain. The girl, however, screamed.

And then, suddenly, that same discarnate reach dragged the girl out of Braeden’s arms and across the cellar, kicking and screaming and crying and pleading. Braeden pushed to her feet and ran after her, already knowing that the force would be faster than her. She pulled her covert-model dracon beam out of her pocket, used her thumb to spin the dial, and shone it once to the girl’s left, once to the girl’s right, and once over the girl’s head. No good. She accomplished nothing but burning perfect holes through wine racks.

Braeden kept running, leaping fallen racks, sliding across spilled wine and broken glass. When the girl hit the back wall, Braeden leapt, grabbing at her feet.

But she was too late. A day late and a dollar short; that was what she’d told Scott wasn’t it? Bloody, wet feet slid from her grip, and the girl was pulled up through the cellar window.

\-- --

Cassie came out of the shower and made her way back to her room. She stopped a moment in her doorway to watch the peacefully sleeping form of Melissa… Melissa _McCall_ , she reminded herself once again. Well, “peaceful” might be a slight exaggeration. There was the occasional grunt or whimper, twitch or kick. But Melissa wasn’t haunted by the sort of terrors that Cassie and now Scott were, at least not to the same degree. And Cassie was grateful for that; she wouldn’t wish sleepless nights on anyone.

Cassie made her way to the bed, and gently nudged Melissa. “Hey,” she started, but Melissa just groaned and turned away. She chuckled to herself and leaned down to Melissa’s ear. “Melissaaaa,” she said playfully.

Sleepily, Melissa merely grunted and mumbled, “Go ’way, Marco.”

Cassie froze. It had been so long since she’d heard that name. Names that only came to her late at night or hanging, unsaid, on the words of the few people who remembered.

_Marco_

She’d thought Scott looked familiar, hadn’t she? The way Melissa dodge the issue. The way she stiffened at mentions of it. That bitter scowl that threatened to present itself on her lips sometimes. She wasn’t angry at Scott’s father… she was hurt, confused, and disquieted. She hadn’t left him, she’d _outlived_ him.

Cassie sat at the edge of the bed and absently brushed a thumb over Melissa’s jaw. “I miss him, too,” she whispered.

\-- --

Braeden ran into Stiles at the top of the stairs. He froze, eyes combing over her soaking wet, tattered, and bloody form. “ _Braeden_?” he demanded. “Wha-- I-- _What the hell?!_ ”

“Girl. Outside,” said Braeden, still trying to catch her breath.

Eyes lighting with terror, Stiles glanced toward the stairs. “Girl?” he repeated. “Heather? Did something--?”

Braeden grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face within inches of hers. “Get. Scott,” she snarled. She shoved him backward and took off toward the front door.

Swearing, Stiles pulled himself together and glanced around. He grabbed the first passerby he found. “Hey, have you seen Scott?” he asked. “Latino boy, about yea tall, very pretty in a ‘Prince Charming’ sort of way?”

The guy shrugged. “Have you tried the rec room?” he suggested.

“Rec room?” Stiles repeated, and the guy pointed in the general direction. Taking off in that direction, Stiles decided that he needed to know fewer rich people with giant houses.

A few moments and a frantic non-explanation later, the boys were running out into the backyard, where they found Braeden angrily yelling at people. Scott pulled her away from a terrified girl and her angry boyfriend while Stiles pulled apologies and excuses out of his ass. “Braeden, what’s going on?” Scott demanded.

“No one has seen her!” Braeden shouted angrily. “That window leads right out here! I saw her dragged through it, kicking and screaming, but no one back here saw a damn thing!”

“Wait, what happened?” Stiles demanded, rejoining them.

“The girl!” Braeden cried. “Skinny! White! Blond! Short! She was in the wine cellar!”

“Heather?” Stiles demanded. Frantically, he grabbed Braeden, who immediately responded by shoving him off. “Where’s Heather? What happened? What did you do?”

“ _I_ didn’t do anything!” Braeden yelled. “I was watching you two when I heard the attack in the cellar. I tried to save her, but she was pulled out the window, but it was too high for me to reach, so I had to go around! It’s _that_ window, though! I know it is!”

“Attacked?” Scott demanded. “Werewolves?”

“I…” Braeden looked around, wide-eyed. Stiles realized that she was shaking. “No,” she said. “No, it wasn’t them.”

“Then what?” Stiles demanded.

“Something else,” she decided. “Something… worse.”


End file.
